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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470585">ancient bylaws didn't mention</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera'>psocoptera</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blindfolds, Consent Issues, Consent Play, Dibs - Freeform, Dom/sub, Episode: s04e23 Dibs (Check Please!), Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dibs are only official if we shake on it," Bitty says, and sticks out his hand expectantly.  It hangs there in the room between them.  Whiskey lifts his own hand, then pauses.</p><p>"Don't I even need to earn it?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor "Whiskey" Whisk/Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Connor "Whiskey" Whisk, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Connor "Whiskey" Whisk/Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ancient bylaws didn't mention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It occurred to me at some point that I'd never written anything in this fandom that drew off of canon past Jack's graduation.  So this is my "what do I want to play with in Year Three and Four" story.</p><p>About the tags: this is a story about people who perceive a power imbalance, think it's hot, and then try to figure out how to act on it without it actually being coercive.  That might feel more like consent play or a consent issue depending on how you read it.  At least some of these people do not necessarily have a great vocabulary yet for what they're doing and what they might be into about it, but they are, in this story, good boys and they're trying.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bitty isn't nervous, when he texts Whiskey, and he isn't expecting any surprises.  A short chat, the ritual handshake, possibly some emotion - Johnson had been very low-key, and Bitty had just been confused, but every other dibs transfer he's been aware of has involved at least a little gratitude or excitement (or in the case of the notorious dibs flip, shock and disbelief).  Maybe Whiskey will let him take a selfie of them together and Bitty can text it to Jack, "guess what I just did", handshake emoji, wow emoji.</p><p>It doesn't go like that.  Whiskey seems nervous, when he shows up.  He hovers in Bitty's doorway, one foot in the hall, like he's ready to bolt.  Bitty has to use his captain voice to get him in the door, well, one of them, the soft one-on-one voice, not the on-ice voice.</p><p>"You can probably guess what this is about," he says encouragingly.</p><p>Whiskey does not look like he can guess.</p><p>"You should have my room," Bitty says, trying to not leave him hanging.  Whiskey fails to look relieved.</p><p>"Don't tell me you're surprised," Bitty says.</p><p>Whiskey doesn't look surprised.  He looks <i>braced</i>, like he's not sure he's ready for this.  He turns away from Bitty, hunching a little.  Bitty looks at the stretch of his green shirt across his shoulders and tries to figure out what to say.</p><p>"You make this team, and you should live in the Haus," Bitty tells him.  Whiskey picks up one of Bitty's pucks and studies it.</p><p>"We never talked about that party," he says after a moment.  His voice is wary.</p><p>"We don't have to," Bitty says.  Is that the problem?  Bitty, who came out to his parents on national tv, would like to think he has some sympathy for the complexities of whether and when to come out.  Whiskey, clutching the puck like a life preserver, doesn't really look like he wants to talk about complexities.</p><p>"You'd make the team stronger," Bitty attempts.</p><p>"What I do doesn't need to be anybody's business," Whiskey says, ignoring this.  "I'm still dating my girlfriend.  I'm a pretty private person."</p><p>"Sure," Bitty says.  Whiskey is so defensive, how can he reassure him?</p><p>Whiskey turns, and looks him in the eye.  He's in the shadows, but there's light coming through the window between them, full of swirling motes of dust.  Maybe Whiskey is staring into the dust.  "I can't be like you," he says.</p><p>"You don't have to be," Bitty says, but Whiskey winces like Bitty has missed the point entirely.</p><p>Bitty isn't sure why this is going so badly.  The tension in the room just keeps winding tighter - it seems like Whiskey is looking for something, but Bitty can't figure out what.  He wants so badly to see him drop his shoulders, to relax, to feel welcome.  Maybe he had thought he could do that with his dibs.  But it doesn't seem to be happening, and now the only thing he can think of to do is try to wrap it up.</p><p>"Dibs are only official if we shake on it," Bitty says, and sticks out his hand expectantly.  It hangs there in the room between them.  Whiskey lifts his own hand, then pauses.</p><p>"Don't I even need to earn it?" he says.  "Ollie and Wicks said Ransom and Holster made them do all kinds of stuff."  There's something weird in his voice, almost desperate.</p><p>"I'm not going to make you do anything!" Bitty says.  Sure, he had hazed the eggs, but that was a team thing.  The personal extortion of favors for housing... he doesn't think he would want any part of that even if he didn't have to think about it haunting his first-out-captain reputation.  He tries to get control of his voice again.  "I'm not even going to make you take my dibs, if you really don't want to.  I'm not trying to... blackmail you into the Haus, if that's what you think is goin' on here."</p><p>"It's not," Whiskey says.  "I just - I..."</p><p>His face looks stricken.  He's chewing on his lip so hard Bitty thinks it must hurt.</p><p>"I thought you might," Whiskey finishes, and, <i>oh</i>.  That's not relief, that's <i>disappointment</i>.</p><p>Their hands are still hovering in the space between them, and Bitty can't resist - he reaches out, not to take Whiskey's hand and transfer his dibs against his will, but to wrap his hand around Whiskey's wrist, over the leather cuff of his watch.</p><p>Whiskey shudders, and then goes completely still.</p><p>It's like a light has turned on, a heat lamp, the room is suddenly brighter and ten degrees hotter and Bitty thinks he might hear a faint buzzing sound.  He's aware, all at once, of how Whiskey is an attractive and exceptionally fit guy, that he just let Bitty put his hand around his wrist, that Bitty isn't technically his captain any more, they are just two Samwell students in a room.  The air between them feels filled with foam, with some quickly-hardening resin, holding them both frozen in place.  The tip of Bitty's index finger is resting on the skin of Whiskey's forearm, and Bitty wants very badly to move it, to feel the smoothness of his skin.</p><p>It's not the first time Bitty has been attracted to someone other than Jack.  A cute boy at a party, a fellow athlete in the weight room - Samwell is full of opportunities to look.  He's even been invited to touch: is constantly surprised how often he gets hit on, for someone famous for who his boyfriend is.  He's never been tempted.  Strangers, even cute strangers, have nothing on Jack, and whatever's drawing them to Bitty, it can't be more than superficial.</p><p>Whiskey saying <i>he thought Bitty might make him do stuff</i> is something else entirely.  Whiskey knows him, and, knowing him - even knowing him - had pictured him... had imagined he might... had wanted it, apparently.  Maybe because he knew Bitty was safe, that he wouldn't really ever do that.  Or maybe it was a way to imagine getting something he couldn't ask for.</p><p>"You know I wouldn't," Bitty says quietly.  He's still holding Whiskey's wrist.  Still not letting himself so much as twitch his finger.</p><p>"You've got Zimmermann," Whiskey agrees, a little bitterly.  Bitty waits.  "And ethics, I guess."</p><p>"I would've liked to think you didn't have to guess," Bitty says.</p><p>Whiskey lifts his chin at that.  "Do you think it was wrong when it was Ransom and Holster?  Or Ollie and Wicks?"</p><p>"I don't see any of them pressuring someone into - "</p><p>Whiskey steps forward, just a little, compressing where their hand and wrist are still joined between them.  "I'm not trying to pressure you," he says.</p><p>Bitty squeezes his wrist, warningly, and Whiskey freezes again.  "You know I meant me," Bitty says.  "Now, I'm going to let go, and you can shake my hand, or not.  Free choice."</p><p>Just like he said he would, Bitty lets go of Whiskey's wrist, not abruptly, but cleanly, not letting his fingers trail even slightly.  </p><p>Whiskey looks down at his wrist for a moment, and then sticks his hand out, mirroring Bitty before, waiting for the handshake.</p><p>Bitty shakes.  Whiskey's hand is warm and a little sweaty.  When Bitty tries to pull away, Whiskey holds on.</p><p>"You can tell Zimmermann," Whiskey says, quickly.  "You could <i>bring</i> Zimmermann.  And, look, dibs done, so... free choice.  Like you said."</p><p>The pang that shoots through Bitty is completely unreasonable.  Of course this is about Jack.  Of course it wasn't really Bitty in Whiskey's fantasy.  Which doesn't matter at all, because nothing is going to happen anyways, but it's like that light from before dimming.</p><p>"Or don't," Whiskey adds.  "Not my business.  All I'm saying is, I owe you a favor now, and you can call it in or not."  He lowers his eyes, almost demurely, and lets go of Bitty's hand.  He does let his fingertips trail along Bitty's, a long, grazing touch.</p><p>Bitty is feeling a little dizzy, and he realizes he's still staring at Whiskey's eyelashes.</p><p>"Well!" Bitty says, finally, too brightly.  "Congratulations.  Welcome to the Haus.  I feel like I should be sending you away with pie, but I didn't, um - "</p><p>"Always pie," Whiskey says, grinning a little.  "Well, you can let me know if you bake something.  Or if you think of anything you need to show me about the room.  I'm around until graduation."</p><p>"Right," Bitty says faintly, and watches Whiskey make his exit.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>need to talk to you</i><br/>
<i>not bad but weird</i>
</p><p>*</p><p>"You need to talk?" Jack says.  "What's up?"</p><p>"Haaaaah," Bitty says into the phone.  "Well.  So.  You know I was going to give my dibs to Whiskey."</p><p>"Sure," Jack says.  "Did you change your mind?"</p><p>"No," Bitty says.  "But.  Um. He asked if I was going to make him earn it, and I think... I think he <i>wanted</i> me to make him earn it?"</p><p>"Huh," Jack says.  Bitty waits, expecting followup questions - he feels like he would certainly have questions for Jack, if the tables were turned - but Jack also seems to be waiting.</p><p>"I, um," Bitty says, after a few moments of that.  "It wasn't a total surprise that he, uh, I mean, men, not, <i>me</i>, although I guess maybe it was really you, which would make more sense, obviously, because why would anybody - "</p><p>"Hey," Jack says.  "I would, obviously.  And you've said you get propositioned."</p><p>"Not by teammates!"</p><p>"Look," Jack says.  "I get it?  Back when I was younger, and closeted, and I knew I shouldn't, the idea of my very hot, very out captain making me - "</p><p>"But I wouldn't have made him!" Bitty says.</p><p>"I know," Jack says.  "But it's about being made to do something you can't otherwise have.  As a, uh, fantasy."</p><p>Bitty has been trying not to think too hard about what, exactly, Whiskey might have imagined Bitty making him do.  There are a couple of obvious options, if you leave out the whole you-could-bring-Zimmermann angle.  The idea of Whiskey thinking about doing one or more of those things - thinking about Bitty making him, casting him in that role, even just in his head - </p><p>"Well, I wouldn't," Bitty says again.  "I'm yours, that's plenty."</p><p>"What if I wasn't in the picture," Jack says.  "Not even a little tempted?"</p><p>"Okay!" Bitty says.  "Yes, it was hot.  Connor Whisk, MVP, offerin' sexual favors to little ol' me, actin' like he was hangin' on my every word and ready to drop to his knees right there?  If we were both sure there wasn't anything ugly goin' on, and it was just - a thing - we were doing?"    </p><p>He feels terrible, instantly - what kind of person says something like that to his loving and devoted boyfriend?</p><p>"Try not to freak out," his loving and devoted boyfriend says.  "I'm not saying you <i>should</i>.  But I feel like you <i>could</i>."</p><p>"Could what," Bitty says.  Jack obviously can't mean - </p><p>"I have to admire the kid for shooting his shot," Jack says.  "And you're leaving Samwell, and if you had asked me yesterday, I don't know what I would have said I thought about it, but now that it's come up, I don't want to be the reason you don't do something."</p><p>"It's not something I would do," Bitty says.</p><p>"Well, that's fine," Jack says.  "I just think you could."</p><p>"It would be coercive."</p><p>"He's already got your dibs," Jack points out.  "And if you thought he was worried you would out him, we could - well.  Sorry.  Not trying to talk you into it."</p><p>"We could what," Bitty says.</p><p>"Well," Jack says.  "Give him some kind of leverage back? Something we wouldn't want to him to leak."</p><p>"Jack," Bitty says.  "Are you trying to, like, balance my power-imbalance, so I can hook up with - Jack, this is crazy!"</p><p>"Okay," Jack says.  "You never have to do anything you don't want to, Bits."</p><p>"Neither do you - you do know that, honey?"</p><p>"I'm not involved," Jack says.  "I would watch, though."</p><p>"Jack!" Bitty screeches.</p><p>"Only if it was fine with both of you," Jack says, like that makes it all better.</p><p>"I don't even get how you're thinking about it," Bitty says.</p><p>"Well, it's hot," Jack says.  "How did you put it?  The MVP dropping to his knees for you?"</p><p>"But what do you get out of it?"</p><p>"Apparently, nothing," Jack says.  "But that's fine.  You're not comfortable with it, that's what matters, end of story."</p><p>Bitty feels wrong-footed, like this whole conversation hasn't gone according to script at all.  If he's honest, he had thought Jack might tell him he had handled it well - a little reassurance, a little praise, probably a little teasing that he had misinterpreted.  He absolutely had not been looking for a hall pass.  Jack cheerfully handing him one doesn't have to mean anything.</p><p>"Well... anyways, that's what happened," Bitty finishes weakly.  "Thanks for calling, hon."</p><p>"Of course," Jack murmurs.  "Keep me posted."</p><p>Keep him <i>posted?</i></p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>hey what did you and Holster make Ollie and Wicks do for dibs</i>
</p><p>...</p><p>
  <i>hey what did you and Ollie make your taddies do for dibs</i>
</p><p>*</p><p>It's impossible not to think about it.  Bitty would blame Jack for encouraging him, but honestly Whiskey saying <i>don't I need to earn it</i> would probably have been enough on its own.  Whiskey going still when Bitty held his wrist, telling him he owes him a favor.  It's so easy to imagine things going a little differently.  Telling Whiskey not to leave.  Keeping the grip on his wrist.  Levering him down to his knees.</p><p>No, no, Bitty tells himself, he does not need to be thinking about this.  He's going to go bake a nice pie - most of his kitchen stuff is already packed to go to Jack's, but he can untape a box if he has to - and he's going to think nice wholesome thoughts about sugar and flour that do not have any other persons in them and certainly not any younger, closeted, and possibly desperate teammates.</p><p>Who were really interested in Jack, anyways.</p><p>But... since any thoughts he might end up having were going to be purely imaginary anyways, entirely disjoined from reality, there's no reason not to edit out the Zimmermann part.  Not the part where Jack said it was okay - that part is obviously indispensable - but the part where Whiskey asked Bitty to bring him.  In this utterly fantastical thought, Whiskey really had been thinking just about Bitty, and Bitty had looked at him, and seen how much he needed it.  And Bitty had gotten his dick out (which he might possibly also be doing in real life), and Whiskey had dropped to his knees, and, well, Bitty ends up coming into a tissue in real life before he gets as far as imagining coming in Whiskey's mouth, but that was definitely where that scenario - that completely impossible scenario, unrelated to anything Bitty might ever do - that was definitely where it had been heading.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>like half our chores dude</i><br/>
<i>and some other stuff</i>
</p><p>...</p><p>
  <i>if you didn't notice nothing you need to worry about</i>
</p><p>*</p><p>If something <i>was</i> going to happen in real life - not that it is - there would have to be some kind of negotiation.  What Whiskey had really imagined Bitty might ask for - if he really had - might not overlap at all with what Bitty imagines him imagining.  What Whiskey would be willing to do might be a subset of what Bitty would let him do, or the other one... the bigger one... might be a superset, that's the word.  And Jack would of course have his own list of noes and yeses.  Bitty would have assumed before their conversation that it would be all noes and no yeses at all - a pie chart in just one color - but apparently he'd been wrong about that.</p><p>He isn't really going to compare lists with Whiskey.  He's curious, can't deny that, but that doesn't seem like the kind of conversation you have unless you're planning to follow through.  But it wouldn't hurt to talk about it with Jack, right?  Jack hadn't seemed upset or anything.  He'd said it was hot, actually.  He probably wouldn't mind some hypothetical consideration of the possibilities.</p><p>Maybe a little more packing, and then dinner, and then another call?</p><p>*</p><p>"I'm not seriously considering it," Bitty emphasizes. "But I am curious where you think the boundaries are here."</p><p>"Yeah, sure," Jack says.  "Good question, bud.  Am I watching, or not?"</p><p>"Does it make a difference?"</p><p>"I don't know.  Maybe not.  Hm."</p><p>Bitty waits.</p><p>"I guess... condoms for oral?  I know that's nobody's fantasy ever... but practically..."</p><p>"So, wait, oral, in general, you would think was okay?"</p><p>Jack makes an agreeable humming noise.  "Back when I thought it was all impossible, the things I thought about all the time were the things I couldn't ever do with a girl.  So, specifically - yeah."</p><p>"Uh," Bitty says.  "I haven't done anything with a girl, but I really don't think anything would be the same, even if it was the same basic... activity."</p><p>"That's fair," Jack says.  "But, still, I'm just guessing, if he has been thinking about it, it's probably more about your dick and his mouth than - "</p><p>"I get it," Bitty interrupts.  "Although I still don't get you wanting to see that."</p><p>"Well," Jack says, and then stops.</p><p>Bitty waits.</p><p>"Aside from the set-up being straight out of my old fantasies... hm.  I think sometimes you - people - you can be a different version of yourself with different people, and if you let me watch, I'd get to see that version of you."</p><p>"Huh," Bitty says.  He's not entirely sure what to make of that.  He would have said that he and Jack switch things up a fair bit - it's not like either of them is always the one going down, or going first, or bottoming when they have time to do that.  But... it was true that he had been a virgin, a virgin about everything, all his first times with Jack.  And even now when it's not all so new, Jack is still older and bigger and stronger and a wealthy celebrity and, honestly, it <i>had</i> felt different, the idea of Whiskey seeing Bitty as someone who could pressure him.  The way Bitty had had control of him, when he put his hand around Whiskey's wrist.</p><p>He's never put his hand around Jack's wrist, quite like that.  It's never occurred to him to try, and that suddenly seems like an omission.</p><p>"I could put <i>you</i> on your knees," Bitty says, before he can second-guess himself. "And you could see it from close up."</p><p>Jack's audible inhale in reaction... Bitty has to silently fist-pump, because it had been a wild shot but it seems to have landed.</p><p>"Yeah?" Jack asks, a little shaky.</p><p>"I know what you need," Bitty goes on.  "I'd make you let me do it all."  Bitty isn't <i>something Jack can't otherwise have</i>, but the key part is the <i>I'd make you</i>, right?  Jack's breathing suggests that Bitty is getting it right, or right enough, and it's electric.  That same high-wattage feeling he felt with Whiskey.</p><p>Except as soon as he thinks that, it feels like something he's trying to talk himself into.  It isn't exactly the same, the idea of playing this game with Jack, or letting it play out with Whiskey.  He absolutely wants to try this with Jack... but he has to admit how much he'd like to try it with Whiskey too.  Whiskey's proposition had been completely unexpected, but now that the door is open, Bitty isn't sure he could stand to close it again without at least sticking his head through and looking around.</p><p>"You should," Jack says, and Bitty almost thinks he means Whiskey, for a second.  "You should make me."  His voice is low and rough and wow, Bitty must be the greediest boyfriend of all time, to not be satisfied with this, when it's already so much.</p><p>"I'd put your hands behind your back," Bitty says, picturing it: Jack, shirtless, back arching a little, looking up at him.  He'd have to be more careful with Whiskey, have him put his hands on his thighs or something.  "Is that how you used to picture it?"</p><p>"Sometimes I imagined them taking a whole group of us," Jack says.  "So it wasn't just me.  They'd tell us everyone had to learn."</p><p>Bitty has learned more about Jack's former fantasy life in the past day than he has in the last two years.  It's amazing, like unwrapping a present, or maybe like landing a new jump or acing a new recipe, pushing Jack - no, that's not right.  <i>Working</i> Jack down into this space where he can confess these thoughts, like working butter into flour.</p><p>"They'd make sure you did everythin' just right," Bitty guesses, and Jack breathes into the phone again.  Bitty has no real picture of who <i>they</i> are and he's pretty sure it doesn't matter, except that he'd like to get back to being them.</p><p>"That's what I'd do," Bitty goes on, acting on that.  "Put you in just the right place, and you'd be so good for me, and I'd decide what I was going to do with you.  Make you feel just how I wanted."</p><p>"Ouias," Jack whispers.</p><p>"I think you should feel good right now," Bitty says.  "I think you should jerk yourself off while I listen."  He's reasonably sure that Jack's way ahead of him on that, but Bitty wants to know that he's doing it because Bitty told him to, and he wants Jack to know it, too.  "Did you get to come, in your fantasies?"</p><p>"From getting fucked," Jack says, muffled.  "Or... we'd have to practice... on each other..."</p><p>"That's right," Bitty says.  "Even if you felt shy about it, you'd still have to come with everyone watching, and take as much dick as I thought you could handle, until I said you were done."</p><p>Jack whines, and then grunts, the familiar sounds of a phone sex orgasm, although usually Bitty's monologue is just narration of how he's touching himself, or memories from an in-person encounter.  It's never felt quite like this.  He's wildly turned on, but he doesn't want to take a single bit of his focus away from Jack; he feels protective and something else in equal measure, something he doesn't have a good word for.</p><p>Rustling noises, and then he can hear Jack breathing into the phone again.  "Hi.  Sorry.  Wow."</p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>"You were trying to talk, and I distracted you."</p><p>"I'm pretty sure I started it," Bitty says.  "And I was definitely, uh, runnin' it.  And very into it.  If that wasn't obvious."</p><p>"Uh.  Good.  Are you good?"</p><p>"I'm good," Bitty says.  "Are you, honey?"</p><p>"Yeah," Jack says.  "I feel a little bad for Whiskey if I just stole his phone call, though."</p><p>"I'm not - " Bitty starts reflexively, and then catches himself.  "Okay, yes, the truth is, I am thinking about it."  Is this when Jack says he has second thoughts?</p><p>"I think you'd be good at it," Jack says.  "I mean, I think... I think you'd be good for him."</p><p>"I guess I wouldn't be committed to doing anything if I just talked to him," Bitty says.</p><p>"A fact-finding mission," Jack says.  "A preliminary interview."</p><p>"Ooh, sexy," Bitty says, rolling his eyes a little.</p><p>"You'll make it sound good," Jack says confidently.  "Love you, bud."</p><p>"Love you," Bitty says.  Oh god, is he really doing this?</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>if you want to you can give me a call</i>
</p><p>*</p><p>"If you're checking in, I'm fine," Whiskey says.</p><p>"No!" Bitty says.  "I mean, I'm glad you're fine.  But I wasn't.  Worrying."  Ugh, he's fluttering.  Where the heck is the Bitty that was just talking to Jack?  "I wanted to ask you some questions."  That was better.</p><p>"Questions?"</p><p>"I'm curious whether we're really on the same page," Bitty says.  "Of course you can hang up any time and I'll never bring any of this up again."</p><p>"Uh," Whiskey says.  "Last I heard, your page was 'no way'."</p><p>"Well," Bitty says.  "Turns out I turned a few pages."</p><p>"<i>Oh</i>," Whiskey says.  "Like... you're actually..."</p><p>"Maybe," Bitty says.  "But not if I'm not sure we're all clear on what we're doing."</p><p>Whiskey snorts.  "Uh, how much confusion could there be."</p><p>"More than you'd think, apparently," Bitty says.  "Maybe you're really into feet or something.  Maybe I'm into feet.  Maybe you want to know that before we're in the middle of something."</p><p>"Are you telling me you're into feet?"</p><p>"No, actually," Bitty says.  "I just came up with that because I figured it was unlikely and I thought it would be easier to start there than somewhere real.  But if you are - "</p><p>"Really not," Whiskey says.</p><p>"Great," Bitty says.  "That's something right there.  Let's try a harder one: would your girlfriend be okay with this?"</p><p>"And how is that your business?"</p><p>"It's not my business what you do, but it's my business what I do," Bitty says calmly.  "I don't like doing things that hurt people."</p><p>"Fair," Whiskey says.  "Uh. So, she knows I fuck around a little, but she thinks it's with puck bunnies?  So, I guess it's a question, is gay stuff something <i>different</i>, or is it just all, uh, extracurriculars."</p><p>That sounds like something Shitty would gleefully debate at length.  Bitty doesn't really want to go there.  "What would she say? Would she be upset?"</p><p>"She'd probably want a threesome," Whiskey mutters.  "Look, she doesn't ask, and I don't ask her, and it works for us.  I know it's not - you probably told Zimmermann, didn't you."</p><p>"You told me to," Bitty says.  "And... that's actually my next question.  Is this whole thing about Jack?"</p><p>"I thought if anything happened it would happen right then," Whiskey says.  "I had no idea there might be a <i>process</i>.  So, no, I did not expect you to pull Zimmermann out from under the bed or something."</p><p>"Okay," Bitty says carefully.  "But if he was in the picture..."</p><p>"Holy shit," Whiskey says.  "Uh... um... can I get back to you on that?  I mean... uh..."</p><p>"Yeah, sure," Bitty says, amused.  His earlier jealousy seems to have evaporated somewhere in his second phone call with Jack.  So what if Whiskey is a little star-struck?  If anything happens, it's going to be Bitty's show.  Directing Jack would be a fine way to get Whiskey off, if it came to that.  "Meanwhile, how about some yes or no?"</p><p>"Uh... yes," Whiskey says, managing to pack the single syllable with attitude.</p><p>"Great," Bitty says.  "Activities of possible interest. Want to suck some dick?"</p><p>Whiskey makes a sort of coughing, wheezing noise.  Maybe Bitty should feel bad for wrong-footing him like that, but something is telling him he needs Whiskey a little off-balance if they're going to get to where Bitty thinks they both want to be.</p><p>"Yes or no," Bitty reminds him.  "Or you can hang up.  But you can't get anything without agreeing to it."</p><p>He thinks he's found the right angle, there.  Whiskey wants deniability; he wants it to be Bitty who made him do it.  But Bitty needs to know the agenda. Therefore, solution: Bitty makes Whiskey talk, until he's extracted enough detail for a game plan, and - hopefully - more like gotten him worked up for it than turned off on the whole idea.  Time to push a little more.</p><p>"I'm feeling like this is a no on dick, here, but I need you to use your words, Connor."</p><p>"No," Whiskey gets out.  He still sounds a little choked.  "I mean, yes.  Yes to the... question."</p><p>"Swawesome," Bitty says, deliberately perky.  "Okay with condoms for that?"</p><p>"I guess," Whiskey says, sounding unenthused.  But that's okay; Bitty had to get it in there somewhere, and now it's out of the way.</p><p>"And can I put you on your knees?"</p><p>"You'd sort of have to," Whiskey says dubiously.</p><p>"Well, there are options," Bitty says.  "That's a yes?"</p><p>"Yeah," Whiskey says.  This time his voice is a little softer and a little deeper, and excitement races up the back of Bitty's neck.  This might really be happening.</p><p>"Can I take off your shirt?" he asks.  "Can I put my hands on you?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"I liked it when I was holding your wrist, can I do more of that?" He realizes he's almost whispering, his voice sinking into the counterpoint to Whiskey's, like they're telling each other secrets back and forth through the phone.</p><p>"Yeah, I, uh. Yeah."</p><p>"Good," Bitty says.  "And if I want to get into your pants?  Jerk you off, or suck you off?"</p><p>"I <i>hope</i> so," Whiskey blurts, and Bitty has to chuckle a little.</p><p>"We'll see," Bitty says.  "Nudity? Everything off?"</p><p>There's a pause; apparently Whiskey has to think about that one.  "Maybe?"</p><p>"That's fine," Bitty says.  "None of this is a binding contract."</p><p>"Do you always negotiate your hookups in advance?" Whiskey asks, and, whoops, Bitty has apparently let the mood get a little off-track.  Well, that's okay, he was almost at the end of his mental list.</p><p>"Maybe you're special," Bitty says, instead of "what hookups" or "no, losing my virginity with the man I was in love with was a pretty different situation than staging a safe gay experience for my hot closeted teammate".  "Uh, last question - kissing?"</p><p>"Kissing?" Whiskey echoes.  "Kissing is the last question?  Isn't there at least one more question than that?"</p><p>Oh, <i>this</i> is interesting.  "Is there?" Bitty says, as neutrally as he possibly can.</p><p>"I don't need to get naked to get jerked off," Whiskey says.  Inaccurately, in Bitty's opinion - it's so much easier to wipe up than try to keep clothes clean - but he'll concede that's a personal preference.</p><p>"I think it's nicer," he says, still bland.</p><p>"Ok, but," Whiskey starts, and then seems to have trouble figuring out where to go from there.  "You don't think you might - I mean - "</p><p>"Is there something you're hoping for?" Bitty asks.  He's aiming for gentle without any edge of teasing, but he's not quite sure he gets it.  "I'll tell you what," he says, not waiting for an answer, just in case he just put Whiskey on the defensive.  "Let's see how things go.  Like I said, none of this is a binding contract."</p><p>Bitty is pretty sure he knows what Whiskey is hinting at, but he doesn't want Whiskey to commit himself in advance to something he might not really be ready for, in the moment.  And Bitty doesn't want to commit himself to something that might not feel right, depending on how things go.</p><p>It's... certainly something to think about, though.</p><p>"So, uh," Whiskey says, bringing Bitty's attention back to the phone.  "We really doing this?"</p><p>"10 am work for you?" Bitty answers.  He's graduating in three days, but doesn't have a lot to do before then... his parents aren't showing up until the evening before.  Not that Bitty particularly wants to be thinking about his parents right now, yikes.  Part of him hasn't been sure, right until this minute, that he was really going to go through with it, but faced with the question, this is his answer: let's make this hypothetical real.</p><p>"Uh, yeah," Whiskey says.  "But, uh, one thing.  About Jack?"</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Would he be... professional?  Like, later?  If I made the show, or whatever?"</p><p>"I don't think Jack would have any problem being professional," Bitty says carefully.</p><p>"I don't know," Whiskey says.  "Maybe it should just be you and me.  But then... I don't know."</p><p>It's tempting to say <i>great, just the two of us</i>.  That's what Bitty would have thought he wanted to hear.  But whatever instinct it was that told him to take Whiskey's wrist in the first place is telling him now that that's wrong, that what he really wants is for Whiskey to not have any regrets afterward, about things he did <i>or</i>things he wished he had done.</p><p>"Want me to blindfold him?" Bitty asks, on an impulse.  "You can see him, he can't see you..." He'll have to negotiate that with Jack, but he thinks Jack will agree.  He's pretty sure the "watch" in Jack's interest in watching had been more of a general "observe", and listening will work just as well.</p><p>"Zimmermann would - ? Damn," Whiskey says.  "Remind me to high five <i>you</i> next time I see you."</p><p>"Well, in theory, you'll be doing something other than high-fiving," Bitty says.</p><p>"Yeah," Whiskey says.  He still sounds a little dazed.  "Okay!  Okay.  I guess I'll... see you guys... tomorrow."</p><p>"I can't wait," Bitty says, and his smile feels like it has teeth in it.</p><p>*</p><p>Bitty is amped up to eleven by the time Whiskey knocks on his door.  He knows he's been fluttering... rearranging his boxes and suitcases like Whiskey is going to care about the half-packed mess, fussing over a pillow for Jack's knees, flipping back and forth between music and no music until Jack eventually says that if he doesn't get to see anything, he wants to hear everything, so no music.  When Bitty hears the knock, he sits down on the edge of his bed, makes himself take a deep breath, and then tells Whiskey he can come in.</p><p>Whiskey opens the door, steps through, and then stops short at the sight of Jack, stripped down to underwear, kneeling next to the bed, blindfolded by Bitty's old Hazeapalooza headband.  It's a pretty impressive sight and the only reason Bitty isn't still transfixed by it himself is that he's already planning a repeat sometime when it's just him and Jack.</p><p>"Shut the door, please," Bitty asks Whiskey, and Whiskey fumbles it closed without taking his eyes off Jack.  Well, not just Jack - Bitty can see his eyes darting back and forth, like he can't decide where to look, at Jack or at Bitty.</p><p>"I'm glad you're here," Bitty says.  "I understand you want to pay back a favor?"</p><p>"Uh... right," Whiskey says.  "Definitely.  That."  Bitty can see him swallow.</p><p>"Good," Bitty says, drawing it out a little.  "That's good."  He looks at Whiskey, evaluating.  Whiskey is wearing a maroon polo shirt this time instead of yesterday's green, a shade or two darker than Samwell crimson - Bitty hopes that isn't a subliminal signal, red for stop instead of green for go.  Otherwise he's dressed pretty much like he had been.  Bitty is glad he went for the black button-down and pants, rejecting Jack's "helpful" suggestions of all his tightest shorts.  That's not what he's going for here.</p><p>"Why don't you take those shoes off," Bitty tells Whiskey.  "You'll be more comfortable."  Bitty, himself, has his shoes on - there is an eternal Haus debate over shoes in the Haus (is it rude, is it normal, is it wrong but sadly necessary given the typical state of the Haus floors), but he's always been a shoes-on kind of person.  (Although... in three days, when he moves into Jack's apartment, he won't be any more, because Jack has established his apartment as a shoes-off space.)  Even if he wasn't, though, he thinks he would have put them on for this, to heighten the contrast with Jack, and nudge Whiskey in the right direction along that axis.</p><p>Whiskey steps out of his shoes - he's not wearing socks, which Bitty supposes is one way to avoid the dreaded "still wearing your socks" problem - and pushes them out of the way of the door with his foot.</p><p>"You should probably lock that," Bitty advises.  Whiskey turns to lock the door, and Bitty takes advantage of the moment to pet Jack's hair, so that he knows Bitty hasn't forgotten about him.  It's grounding for Bitty, too.  If he can be this for Jack - if he can help him make these thoughts in his head something he can actually try - he can be it for Whiskey, too.</p><p>"Now the shirt," Bitty directs, when Whiskey looks at him again, before he has to decide whether he should come over there or stay by the door or what.  "I wanna see what I'm getting," Bitty adds, when Whiskey hesitates, and either his words or the accompanying grin are enough to get Whiskey's shirt over his head and dropped onto his shoes without further delay.</p><p>Bitty has seen Whiskey dozens or maybe hundreds of times in the locker room, but of course in the locker room he doesn't let himself <i>look</i>.  Now he lets his gaze drag slowly and deliberately down Whiskey's body, from the shoulders, to the chest, to the trail of hair just visible above the waist of his pants.  He's not as thickly-muscled as Jack (although Jack isn't either, right now, spring-lean from the grind of the season), but it's definitely a body Bitty finds appealing.</p><p>That he's allowed to touch, right now.</p><p>"Very nice," Bitty says, when he's been staring long enough.  "C'mere."</p><p>Whiskey crosses the room - it doesn't take very long, it's not a big room - and stops just at the edge of Bitty's reach.  Bitty could lean forward and put his hand on Whiskey's chest, or his abs, but it would be awkward.  (Jack could grab his legs easily, from the floor, but that's really not the plan here.)  Instead, he leans just long enough to grab Whiskey's wrist, and pulls him the rest of the way towards the bed, until he's standing between Bitty's knees, and he's close enough that Bitty can smell his deodorant and hear the way he's breathing a little faster than normal.</p><p>Bitty has the curtains closed, for this - he wishes he had Whiskey in the sunlight, but better to be safe.  His skin looks warm and a little flushed even in the light of Bitty's desk lamp.</p><p>Bitty drops Whiskey's wrist and puts both hands on his waist, then glides his palms slowly up his sides, up over his pecs, until his fingertips just reach up to Whiskey's collarbones, then drags them down, down his chest and abs, to the top of his pants.  </p><p>Whiskey takes a deep, shuddering breath.</p><p>Bitty touches him a little more, stroking up and down, until Whiskey's breathing evens out a little.  Whiskey's skin is silkier than Jack's and a little cooler.  He's the second person Bitty's ever touched like this.  Although Bitty shouldn't focus on that because right now he is the expert and Whiskey is the rookie (and Jack, still waiting patiently on the floor, is... an alternate? whatever.)</p><p>Whiskey lifts his hands a little; they hover uncertainly.  Bitty, rather than give him any guidance about whether (and where) he could touch him, sets his own hand solidly over the fly of Whiskey's pants.  Whiskey's breathing stutters again.  He's hard, maybe unsurprisingly - Bitty is also hard, Jack has been hard since Bitty tied on the blindfold - but it's reassuring to have that confirmation that they aren't completely off-track.  Bitty gropes him a little, like he's sizing him up, and then takes his hand away.  Whiskey almost makes a grab for his wrist and then visibly stops himself.</p><p>"Seems to me you have some work to do before you get any more of that," Bitty says.  Whiskey's pupils flare, and Bitty captures each of his wrists, gripping more tightly than he had before.  He stands up as he starts to pull down, and Whiskey takes a deep breath and drops to his knees.</p><p>It's even better than it was in Bitty's imagination.  Whiskey is looking up at him, wide-eyed and hungry, arms held up and away from his body in Bitty's now-relaxing grasp.</p><p>"Okay?" Bitty asks.</p><p>"Fuckin' A," Whiskey says, chewing on his own lip a little in anticipation.</p><p>"Okay," Bitty says, and lets go of his wrists to fish one of the condoms out of his pocket.  He hands it to Whiskey.  "Well?" he says, when Whiskey hesitates.</p><p>Whiskey leans forward and presses his face into the groin of Bitty's pants, just for a moment, right over the crease of his thigh.  It's weirdly sweet, and weirdly familiar - Bitty is pretty sure he's done that, and Jack has done that, and apparently it wasn't just a them thing, it's... a universal sign of appreciation for the dick you are about to suck? Or something?  He looks over at Jack, who is being so good, still kneeling there with his hands on his thighs, waiting for his turn.</p><p>Whiskey leans back and starts to work on unfastening Bitty's pants, which pulls Bitty's attention back to him.  Whiskey fumbles a little with the hook and bar but pulls the zipper down carefully.  Bitty is wearing black bikini briefs to match his shirt.  Whiskey pauses again, and Bitty puts his own hands over Whiskey's to push the entire pants-and-briefs assemblage down over his hips.  It's not the best look, but he doesn't actually want to strip all the way, so, it'll work.  There is some inevitable comical erection-bobbing, and then Whiskey is eye-to-eye with Bitty's dick, almost cross-eyed looking at it.  He starts to lean forward, and Bitty has to put his hand out to stop him.</p><p>"I gave you a condom," he reminds him.  Whiskey makes short work of getting the package open and the condom rolled on - the part of Bitty's mind that is always a little worried about the underclassmen is glad to see it, at least if he's fucking around he's being safe enough to be well-practiced - and then he opens his lips over the head, and Bitty makes an involuntary noise.</p><p>It's not as good as getting sucked bare, but it's still the heat of a mouth on his dick, and it's Whiskey, eyes closed, expression rapt, a red flush developing in his cheeks.  Whiskey backs off a little, and then surges forward, taking Bitty deeper until he gags.</p><p>"Easy there," Bitty says, stroking Whiskey's hair away from his forehead.  He leaves his hands in Whiskey's hair, not pulling or pushing, just ready to stop Whiskey if he tries to go too deep again.  He doesn't, though, just gets down to what Bitty recognizes as serious experimentation, trying out what he can do with his lips and tongue and speed and angle.  Bitty tries to make helpful noises whenever he does something particularly good - it doesn't take a lot of effort, Bitty is not a quiet lay - which also has the fun side effect of riling up Jack, whose hands are now kneading at his own thighs with the effort of continuing to wait.</p><p>It won't be too much longer.  Whiskey has finally settled into a back-and-forth, up-and-down rhythm, and it's pretty good.  Definitely enough to get Bitty there, if he keeps going, which he is, and Bitty can feel the heat gathering in his belly, the temptation to thrust - </p><p>"Okay," he says, pulling Whiskey back by the hair.  Whiskey makes a soft, shocked noise, which Bitty is pretty sure is more of an objection to the removal than the hair-pulling.</p><p>"That was so good," Bitty tells him.  "So good, and I think you liked it, didn't you?"</p><p>Whiskey blinks up at him.</p><p>"I need a word," Bitty says, echoing their phone conversation, and Whiskey looks away.</p><p>"Yeah," he says.  "Obviously."</p><p>"Yeah," Bitty says.  "You liked having a dick in your mouth, and you're hoping right now I'm going to let you get back on there and keep going, aren't you."</p><p>Whiskey nods, a motion so small it might not even be on purpose.</p><p>"Well, I'm not," Bitty says.  Whiskey's eyes snap back to his, and Bitty is mean enough to enjoy the frustration in them.  "But I'll tell you what.  Ask Jack if you can suck his dick, and maybe I'll let you do that."</p><p>Whiskey swallows, and twists to look over at Jack, who, having been mentioned, is sitting up alertly.</p><p>"Uh, Zimmermann," Whiskey says.  "Can I.  Um.  Can I suck your dick.  Sir."</p><p>Bitty feels a zap of something at the "sir" - electricity and a little jealousy, why does <i>Jack</i> get to be "sir" even half-naked and blindfolded - but it all pays off when Jack, like he has been meticulously coached by Bitty to do, says "maybe."</p><p>"Maybe?" Whiskey says.  "Maybe if... what?  Please?"  He looks back at Bitty.  "Can he?"</p><p>"I think you need to convince him," Bitty says, and has to smile at Whiskey's dubious expression, like, who could ever need convincing.  "Maybe you should kiss him?  You boys could put on a little show for me, how about that."</p><p>Whiskey looks vaguely terrified, but shuffles around on his knees to face Jack.  "Uh," he says.  "That okay with you? Zimmermann?"</p><p>"You heard Bitty," Jack says perfectly, and Whiskey darts forward to give him a quick kiss, no more than a peck on the lips.</p><p>"What is this, spin the bottle?" Bitty asks, seizing the moment to divest himself of the condom and pull his pants back up.  "I want to see second base."</p><p>Whiskey mutters something under his breath, possibly "oh fuck", and leans forward into Jack's space again.  This time it's a slower kiss, gentle, <i>respectful</i>, or at least it is until Jack opens his mouth, reaches out blindly for Whiskey, and hauls him into his lap.</p><p>Whiskey yelps.</p><p>"I've just been here <i>listening</i>," Jack growls. "Now c'mon."  Whiskey whimpers - possibly he's just noticed the new proximity of Jack's erection - and finally gets with the program, putting his hands on Jack's shoulders and angling his head.</p><p>Bitty sits down and watches while they start to make out in earnest.  It's kind of fascinating.  He's never seen Jack kissing anyone.  Is that how Jack looks when he kisses Bitty?  (Plus or minus a blindfold.)  Was Whiskey rocking his hips like that while he was blowing Bitty?  Bitty's attention had been elsewhere.  Bitty would not have thought he would want to watch this, but it's actually a pretty great show.  Jack feels up Whiskey until he finds Whiskey's nipples, which seem to be sensitive, and Whiskey returns the favor, breaking free of the kiss to get his mouth into that action.  Jack groans - Jack tends to be quiet, but he's been instructed to make some noise - and Whiskey, seeing an opportunity, asks "can I suck you now" with his mouth still open against Jack's skin.</p><p>"Bitty," Jack says.</p><p>"I'm going to watch," Bitty says.  "And you're going to let him."  Jack reacts with what Bitty can only describe as a wiggle of anticipation.  It's adorable, as well as hot, and Bitty gazes appreciatively until he remembers that, in fact, he also has to help coordinate, and hops down from the bed.  There's a bit of discombobulation while they rearrange, but eventually Jack is lying naked on the floor with his head on a pillow, still blindfolded, condom on, and Whiskey is kneeling between Jack's legs with his hands on Jack's hips and his face inches from Jack's dick.  Bitty is not small, but Jack is both longer and thicker, and Whiskey's expression is half lust and half apprehension.</p><p>"Use your hands," Bitty coaches.  "Take it slow.  It's gonna fill up your mouth so nice, you'll love it."</p><p>Whiskey bends the rest of the way down, opening with some preliminary licking, and Bitty watches raptly.  He had talked Whiskey out of his pants while they were reorganizing, on the pretext of comfort while bending forward.  Whiskey had agreed, probably in the hope that removing a layer got him that much closer to someone touching his dick again.  Whatever the reasons, Whiskey is now a long and lovely curve of bare skin interrupted only briefly by navy boxer briefs a couple of shades darker than the ones Jack is no longer wearing.  From the bed, Bitty has an excellent view of his back, and said boxer briefs - it's basically impossible to blow someone lying on the ground without ending up with your ass at least a bit in the air, and Bitty had absolutely considered that when orchestrating this part.  There's something particularly satisfying about not just seeing it, but knowing that he arranged it.</p><p>He also has an amazing view of Jack.  Normally, of course, if Jack is getting his dick sucked, it is by Bitty, and what Bitty can see is limited by where his face needs to be for that activity.  He's never been able to sit back and see the big picture.  He gets to see more if he's fucking Jack face to face, or riding him, but, honestly, he's not focused on observation in such conditions.  Now, here, he can study all the little ways Jack's face changes in reaction to Whiskey's attentions.  The way he opens his mouth, or bites his lip.  Bitty wishes he could see what the blindfold covers - see his eyes - but that's not the plan here.  And, well.  The blindfold is part of the way he's in charge of both Jack and Whiskey right now, and he's really liking that.  The way Whiskey is bobbing his head... the way Jack's neck and chest are turning sunburn-pink... Bitty feels drunk on it, except it's the exact opposite of being drunk, it's being sober with drunken friends, except still giddy, like being the designated driver but the car is from NASCAR.  He could come, so easily, from watching.  His balls ache, and his dick hasn't forgotten Whiskey's mouth, and it wouldn't take more than sticking his hand down his pants to find relief.</p><p>But that isn't the plan either.  And there's a pleasure in knowing he can stick to the plan, he, Bitty, who no one would ever suspect of discipline.  He watches Whiskey and Jack for another moment, not touching himself at all, until he judges it time to get hands-on again, and returns to the floor.  Something about the way Whiskey is moving suggests an aching jaw (although maybe Bitty is just projecting based on his own experience) and Jack has that "close but not quite getting there" face, and they need Bitty to come take care of them.</p><p>Bitty puts one hand on Whiskey's shoulder and the other on Jack's chest.  "You're doing so well," Bitty tells Whiskey. "You boys are just beautiful." He tweaks Jack's nipple, who predictably bucks up into Whiskey's mouth, requiring both of Whiskey's hands and one of Bitty's to pin him down again.</p><p>"Are you trying to fight it?" he asks Jack.  "You can't."  It's a ridiculous thing to say - Jack could not be more clearly straining towards his own orgasm, the farthest thing from "fighting it". But there is real-world logic and then there is sex logic, and this whole thing has been an abandonment of the normal rules, from the moment Jack said <i>you could</i>. And, honestly, the more Bitty pushes into it, the better it seems to get. So: "Don't even try," he tells Jack, "You're going to come because I want you to," and puts his hand on the back of Whiskey's neck to push him down a careful quarter inch that probably feels like three, from the choked noise that Whiskey makes.  Jack reacts beautifully, coming like he's been trained to it, and Whiskey pulls off with a vaguely awed expression that might be "I just sucked off Stanley Cup winner Jack Zimmermann" or might possibly be "I just sucked off my second (third, seventh, Bitty isn't sure but he's pretty sure it's a small number) Actual Dick".</p><p>Bitty is still thrumming, but it's intermission again, so he pets Jack's hair, and gets Whiskey upright again, and deals with the condom, the little tasks of facilitation that someone needs to do.  It's not hot, but Bitty likes it, likes knowing that he is still together enough to do this while Jack is catching his breath and Whiskey is blinking himself back into awareness beyond his mouth.  To Bitty's great amusement, he thinks he can see the moment Whiskey remembers his own dick, the way he looks down into his lap like "are you still here?".  Whiskey's dick is very present, leaking a darker spot into the dark fabric of his underwear.  Bitty might suck that dick, depending on how the next bit goes.  His second Actual Dick, if you're counting by unique dicks, or... many-dozenth, by dick encounters? Hundred-somethingth?</p><p>"Ok, Connor," Bitty says.  Time for Act Three, let's get everyone in position.  He nods at Whiskey's underwear.  "Ready to take those off for me?"</p><p>Whiskey's hands go immediately to his waistband, and he's up on his knees peeling them off before, Bitty thinks, he's even quite considered the question.  His dick, revealed, is flushed and beaded wet at the tip, which Bitty will not get to taste in any scenario. His mouth still waters.</p><p>Whiskey stands up to get his underwear all the way off.  Bitty is still kneeling next to Jack, and so there is a long moment while Bitty looks calmly up at Whiskey and Whiskey waits to see if he's going to do anything.  Bitty doesn't move, doesn't lean, doesn't make the slightest motion of his lips, although he feels like he can hear his heart beating in his ears.  After an endless silence, Whiskey finally looks away from Bitty's face, and, obviously trying to sound chill about it and completely failing, asks, "So are you going to fuck me?"</p><p>"No," Bitty says.  He can see the way Whiskey's face shutters.  "But I am going to finger you," he goes on.  "Unless you want to be done here."</p><p>Whiskey takes one deep, loud, breath, two, a third, more slowly.  "Okay," he says.  "Okay."</p><p>There is more rearranging.  Bitty wants Jack sitting at the head of the bed, with a pillow on his crossed legs, and because he is still blindfolded Bitty has to guide him up and put him there.  He wants Whiskey lying down with his head on the pillow, which means pressing his shoulders back while he doesn't <i>quite</i> resist.  Just enough that he needs to be pushed, because he wants to be pushed, Bitty thinks.  Whiskey's legs need to be opened, which is delicious, Bitty's hands on his knees and then his thighs, moving them gently apart, and then further back and further up while Whiskey blinks and squirms and blushes.  Bitty stops partway, and gives Whiskey an appraising look.</p><p>"This is hard, isn't it," he says sympathetically.  One at a time, right then left, he takes Whiskey's hands where they're clenching by his sides and lifts them up to the pillow by his head, and then takes Jack's hands and wraps them around Whiskey's wrists.  Like he had planned on doing from the start, of course. "There you go," Bitty says.  "We've got you."</p><p>"Okay," Whiskey says, hardly more than a whisper, and Bitty gets back to work, putting his legs somewhere he'll be able to hold them, eventually stuffing another pillow under his hips for just a little better angle.  A little more access.  Whiskey is going back and forth between staring at Bitty and squeezing his eyes shut.  His dick is leaking steadily onto his belly.  Bitty fishes a condom out of his pocket, because it's going to be easier before his hands get slippery, and rolls it down, and Whiskey makes a very nice little noise.</p><p>Bitty reaches for the lube, and starts to make some initial, exploratory forays, circling without pressure, and Whiskey makes a few more noises.</p><p>Bitty has always found being fingered more embarrassing than being fucked.  The thing about being fingered, Bitty thinks, is that it's unavoidably about you.  If you're getting fucked, odds are at least decent that it's about the dick, and the primary focus of the person behind the dick is not "oh, look what a weird face my partner is making" or something but rather "hot tight wet" and all the usual business of that.  Bitty, at least, finds the grasp of Jack's body pretty overwhelming no matter how much he tells himself he has some kind of plan going in (and it seems to be similar for Jack).  Getting his fingers into him is also mind-blowing, but maybe in a mind-not-<i>completely</i>-blown way, a slight-remove kind of way, and it's the same on the flip side.  Getting fucked, he knows what he's giving back.  Getting fingered, he is always the person having the most intense time, and sometimes that is a difficult person to be.</p><p>Whiskey, in this situation, is definitely the person having the most intense time, and Bitty is enthralled.  He gasps for just the tip of Bitty's finger, for a gentle, barely-there slide between his first and second knuckle, he squeaks when Bitty gets that finger deeper and crooked.  Bitty will eat his hat if Whiskey's ever let anyone do this before.  He wants to keep going all day, just to listen to Whiskey's inability to keep quiet, but Whiskey's dick is twitching, and Bitty isn't even entirely sure he's going to be able to get a second finger into him before he goes off.</p><p>He really wants to though.  And maybe... that can be... up to him?</p><p>"You can't come yet," Bitty says, trying to sound authoritative.  It was easier when he had been telling Jack he was <i>going</i> to come, since he obviously was.  This seems less guaranteed.  But Bitty wants it even more, wants to control this whole experience for Whiskey, so that it's exactly what Bitty thinks it should be, because it will be better that way.  Because it will be good.  "You can't come until you take another finger," Bitty says, and Whiskey opens his eyes and nods frantically.</p><p>Okay then.  Bitty gets a little more lube, and applies careful pressure, and Whiskey makes a strangled noise, and Bitty curls his fingers and barely has time to get his mouth over the head of Whiskey's dick before he's coming, bucking up against Bitty's hand on his hip and Jack's hands still around his wrists.  Bitty extracts his fingers as Whiskey collapses back onto the pillow, staring blindly up at the ceiling.  Jack is smiling (blindfolded) down at him, and shifts his grip on his wrists so that he's holding his hands.</p><p>And, wow, that's gorgeous, this blissed-out boy in his boyfriend's lap.  Bitty has accomplished all his goals here, but it's hitting him that he hadn't actually scripted himself an orgasm, and between the blowjob, and the world's hottest live sex show, and (probably) popping Whiskey's fingerbang cherry, Bitty is really quite in <i>need</i> of an orgasm.</p><p>In a perfect world, he thinks, he'd like to come on Whiskey's face, but that definitely seems like an ask-first sort of thing, and also probably breaks the "condoms for oral" rule.  Maybe he can... fake it, though?  And then he's scrambling to get the condom off Whiskey and his hand wiped off and his zipper down and a new condom onto himself and he's straddling Whiskey's torso and jerking off desperately, and Jack is leaning forward, trying to find him with his face to kiss him, and Whiskey, underneath him, reaches up to put one hand on his waist, not even touching skin, but it's enough, and everything whites out for a second.</p><p>"Hah," Bitty says, when he's back in his head again.  "H-ah. Ah."</p><p>He's not entirely sure what happens next; he didn't think this part through either.  What happens next with Jack is that they snuggle until they fall asleep or someone has to catch a train or eat a meal or be bullied into working on their thesis or whatever is happening next.  Bitty doesn't think Whiskey wants to snuggle.  He probably wants Bitty's knees out of his ribcage? Bitty de-condoms and crawls off - always more awkward than crawling on, which he's not entirely sure now how he'd accomplished - and Whiskey sits up and stretches extravagantly.  Bitty can't quite read the look on his face.</p><p>Whiskey twists, side-to-side, and looks back over his shoulder at Jack. "Hey, can I take that off?" He's looking at Jack's blindfold.</p><p>Bitty thinks he's asking Jack, for a moment, and then Whiskey looks at him expectantly.</p><p>"Oh," Bitty says.  "Yeah, sure."  He had assumed he wouldn't do it until Whiskey was gone - but if Whiskey wants to?</p><p>Whiskey's hands are careful on Jack's face, and then Jack is blinking and squinting.</p><p>"Hi," Whiskey says.</p><p>"Hello," Jack says, sounding absurdly formal given that they're both naked and just helped get each other off.  God, Bitty adores him.</p><p>"So," Whiskey says, standing up and looking for his underwear, which he picks up but does not immediately put back on.  "I was thinking.  It's, uh.  It's not so far down to Providence, maybe when we're back in the fall I could... visit sometime?"</p><p>Bitty freezes.  He hasn't talked about this with Jack - which was clearly a mistake, given Whiskey's alarming willingness to proposition people, why would he have assumed it would stop at one time - and it doesn't seem fair to Whiskey to either talk in front of him or leave him hanging.  He looks over at Jack, who looks thoughtful, which could mean anything.</p><p>Whiskey, undaunted, steps right in front of Bitty and sinks down to his knees, until he's looking up at him determinedly.  And it should be ridiculous. Bitty's dick is still out, flopping around unaesthetically, and more importantly they are not still in upside-down sex logic land where this kneeling thing is the kind of thing that people <i>do</i>.  And yet, it's not: it's the turned-up-to-eleven feeling all over again, like everything has a bright outline and a static charge.</p><p>"I'd really like," Whiskey says carefully. "To do this again. Sir."</p><p>"Yes," Bitty says without thinking.  (It's like a bell ringing, a goal horn, the snap of good chocolate, the burst of a ripe berry.  God, he came five minutes ago but he wants to bite Whiskey all over.)  And then he catches himself, and looks at Jack - who smiles, and lowers his eyelashes very deliberately, and gives Bitty a thumbs up.</p><p>"'Swawesome," Whiskey says, popping back to his feet and briskly stepping into his underwear and then his pants.  He pulls the polo shirt over his head and grins at Bitty, who is still standing there feeling a little bit stunned.  "You've really got my back.  And... Jack... thank you."</p><p>"See you in Providence," Jack says.</p><p>"Yeah," Whiskey says.  "See ya."  He steps into his shoes, tries to open the door, and gives it a look of hilarious betrayal when he realizes it's still locked.</p><p>"Hey," Bitty says, finally jarring himself out of his moment of surprise.  "Sorry to mess up your smooth exit here, but."  He walks over to Whiskey and puts his hand on his shoulder.  "You're good?"</p><p>"Yeah," Whiskey says, more softly.  "I'm good."</p><p>"Okay," Bitty says, "Good," and leans up to kiss him, not deeply, but fondly, a friendly sort of kiss that ends with both of them smiling.  He reaches past Whiskey to unlock the door.</p><p>As soon as Whiskey is gone, Bitty whirls back to Jack.</p><p>"Really?" he asks.  "Really really? You didn't get cornered into - "</p><p>"I promise," Jack says.</p><p>(And after that Bitty isn't nervous, and he isn't expecting any more surprises.  So he still faints in Faber when Jack pulls out the ring.)</p>
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